Bellatrix, My Bella
by honeycombgirl
Summary: Explores Bellatrix's character, her years as a young woman and her relationship with Voldemort.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Not to be a stick in the mud or anything, but what are you doing in my house?"

Bellatrix stood in the doorway, clad only in a long, white nightgown. Her gaze was fixed on Lucius, whose white-blonde hair stood out shockingly in the darkly furnished sitting room.

"Now, Bella," Lucius simpered, and he obligingly stepped backwards so that she could see everybody in the room. "The Dark Lord needed a meeting place tonight. Urgently. Seeing as you were _sweet_ enough to give me a key…" He gave a half-apologetic shrug.

The moment Lucius had stepped back, Bellatrix's eyes had gone to the pale, dark-haired man who was sitting in one of the armchairs, lazily tracing his fingers on the rim of an empty wine glass. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and she immediately tuned Lucius out.

"Not a problem," she murmured. She briefly tore her gaze from her Master's to flash a smile at her cousin, Evan Rosier, who was sitting, sprawled, on the carpet. Bellatrix had a lack of chairs in her house. She rarely had guests. It was a starter house, really, a place where she could gain some much needed independence from her parents now that she was seventeen. The Dark Lord had never, _never_ convened a meeting here. Usually the older men received the privilege of hosting their Master. Never a seventeen-year old girl, never her sparse sitting room.

"I do hope that you don't mind the intrusion, Bella." Her Master's voice was quiet but clear. "As it happened, your peers had a… mission in this area tonight. A meeting was needed to check on the status of their assignment." His lips curled in a half-smile. "Speaking of which, now that the lady of the house is present… let us begin."

The Dark Lord turned to Antonin Dolohov, who was barely visible, leaning against the wall, clad in a black robe. Bellatrix shifted in the doorway. Noticing the barely lit room, she quickly pointed her wand at one of the lamps near her Master. The light gave him a ghostly look, throwing shadows onto his face and emphasizing the near-translucence of his skin.

Dolohov cleared his throat. "My Lord," he began, "Our mission was as successful as we had hoped." He paused, glancing down at his boots before gazing directly at the Dark Lord. "Gideon and Fabian Prewett are dead."

Rosier chuckled softly from his spot on the carpet. "Gave us one hell of a fight, though, right, Avery?"

Avery nodded assent as Bellatrix sunk onto the ground next to Rosier.

"Wait," she murmured, and she looked at the Dark Lord once again. "Who, exactly, was involved in the mission? Or execution, to be more precise."

Her Master's eyes betrayed his amusement at her remark, but his tone was serious as he spoke. "Dolohov, Malfoy, Rosier, Avery, Nott, Goyle." He gestured to each young man with a wave of his white hands.

Bellatrix was annoyed, too much so to hide it. "That's everybody except for me!" She paused and added as an afterthought, "Well, and Crabbe, if we're counting an oaf like him, and we are, since you mentioned Goyle." A look of genuine hurt crept onto her beautiful face and she twined her fingers nervously in her lap. "Have I done something to displease you, My Lord? We all know that I am one of your best fighters. Why have I been excluded?"

"Bella," sighed her Master. Her anger evaporated with his use of that treasured nickname. Nobody called her Bella except for her father, when he was in a good mood. And the Dark Lord. He had called her that ever since their meeting, when she was but sixteen. He had twirled one of her thick, dark curls around his fingers and told her that Bella actually meant "beautiful." _Fitting_ , he had said, _for you_.

Her Master's voice called her back to the present. "I am not displeased with you, nor am I excluding you with malicious intent. I simply assumed that you were otherwise occupied."

"Otherwise occupied?!" Bellatrix squeaked. "My Lord, you know that nothing comes before my work for you. Nothing."

The Dark Lord's lips twisted in a smile again. "Yes, Bella, I know that. But this mission was months in the planning. While we were organizing this 'execution,' as you so aptly described it, you, my Bella, were studying for your N.E.W.T. exams. As the only member of my Inner Circle who is still at Hogwarts, you were unable to participate in this assignment. Everybody else _was_ available and ready."

"Oh." Bellatrix looked at her crimson-painted fingernails, her face turning the same shade. It was July now, and yes, for the past three months, she had been buried in her textbooks. She was a good student, hard-working and determined, with a dogged stubbornness when it came to getting top marks.

"I am sorry for questioning your reasoning, My Lord," Bellatrix said softly, still staring fixedly at her fingers. "It is not my place to do so."

Lucius was looking at her disapprovingly and Nott shifted uncomfortably.

The Dark Lord's fingers twitched on his wand, which seemed to appear from nowhere. He contemplated it, turning it in his fingers for several moments, then he looked up at Bellatrix.

Her breath caught in her throat as his scarlet eyes met her brown ones.

"No more apologies, Bella. Now be a good girl and fetch Goyle a healing potion. One of those Prewett brothers sliced his chest and I will be short an… _oaf_ if he dies."


	2. Chapter 2

Alas, I don't own the Harry Potter series or any of its characters, so please don't sue me. I'm nice ;)

Chapter Two:

 _One month later_

"Oh Merlin, it's come."

Bellatrix was staring with mixed excitement and horror at a tawny, dignified-looking owl that was pecking steadily on the upstairs window of Malfoy Manor. In its talons, the owl clutched a thick, creamy envelope.

 _What a time to get my N.E.W.T. exam results_ , she thought, glancing at the roomful of people behind her and sighing as she rose to open the window. The dining room of Malfoy Manor was packed with Death Eaters. Lucius was sitting at the Dark Lord's left, his chest puffed out with pride that his Master was actually sitting in Lucius' regular chair, at the head of the table. Bellatrix's spot was on his right. The rest of the high-backed, cherry wood chairs were occupied by other Death Eaters, faces long familiar to Bellatrix.

With a wrench, she opened the big window. The owl immediately offered her the envelope, which she took nervously. It flew away as Bella dropped back into her seat. She left the window open and the breeze of the summer day was a relief in the stuffy room.

Lucius eyed the paper. "Damn," he said. "Those Hogwarts owls can really track you down." An amused grin came over his face as he said softly, "Just think how surprised old Dumbledore would be if he knew who you were with right now."

Bellatrix didn't look amused. The Dark Lord shifted in his seat to look at the envelope. "Your examination scores, I take it?" he asked, looking at Bellatrix.

She nodded. "I'm scared to open it."

"Oh, come on, Bells!" exclaimed Rosier, who was seated on her right. He snatched the envelope out of her trembling hands. "I'll read you the grades, if you're going to be a baby about it."

Bellatrix's head sank down onto her arms, resting on the table, as her cousin tore open the envelope. The room had gone dead silent, everybody watching the exchange at the end of the table. Rosier cleared his throat.

"Charms…" he paused. "O. Outstanding, that is."

Bellatrix gave a muffled squeak, her face still buried in her arms. Although she could not see him, the Dark Lord was looking down at her with an expression of amusement and something else that wasn't clear.

"Herbology," Rosier continued. "O."

"History of Magic. O."

"Ugh," Dolohov murmured under his breath to Avery. "I wish old Binns would bite it already so they could ditch that bore of a class."

"Astronomy. O."

Bellatrix lifted her head and looked at Rosier before turning to glance at her Master. Her lovely face was beginning to shine with excitement.

"Potions. O."

"Transfiguration. O. Merlin's beard, Bells, how did you pull this off?"

"Arithmancy. O."

"Divination. O."

"Care of Magical Creatures. O."

"Study of Ancient Runes, O."

Nott whistled under his breath. A slow smile was creeping across the Dark Lord's face. Bellatrix's eyes glowed.

Rosier began to laugh as he looked at the final grade. He choked out, "Defense Against The Dark Arts..." He slapped the table with his fist and held the paper up, exclaiming, "O!"

Lucius laughed. Turning to Bellatrix, he said, "Darling, I had no idea that you were so skilled at… _defending_ against the Dark Arts."

Bellatrix giggled. She appeared to come out of her state of shock and she leapt out of her chair to grab the papers from Rosier. She flipped through them, her smile widening as she looked at each neatly typed "O."

"Yes!" she exclaimed. The look of pure happiness became her immensely. Her normally pale skin was rosy and her eyes sparkled beneath their long lashes. Her full lips in their smile quivered with excitement.

She sat down once again and the papers were neatly plucked away from her by a long, white hand.

"Nothing but 'Outstanding,'" murmured her Master. "Practically unheard of."

She looked at him. Her yearning for his approval was written plainly on her face.

He leaned in towards her. "I am proud of you, my Bella," he said quietly.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"You know, Bellatrix, sweetheart, you can't stay unmarried forever."

With difficulty, Bella restrained the urge to knock the tureen of soup right out of her mother's hands, just to see the sickening simper wiped from Druella Black's face.

It was Sunday, and on Sundays, Bellatrix's parents invited her, no, _forced_ her, really, to come to the family home for dinner. Bellatrix, her parents and her younger sisters, Andromeda and Narcissa, were seated at the elegant dining table. The smooth dark wood reminded Bellatrix of the previous day and of her N.E.W.T. results. She hadn't told her family about that yet. For some reason, she had clung to this good news like a secret, reluctant to relinquish it. However, perhaps now she could use it to change the subject.

"Oh, did I mention that I got my N.E.W.T. results yesterday?" She paused to make sure that all eyes were on her. "I received an 'Outstanding' on every test."

Her father, Cygnus Black, raised an eyebrow. "My goodness, Bella. It is rare for someone to succeed to that extent under the instruction of Muggle-loving teachers. Well done."

Bellatrix didn't know whether to be flattered or not. _Not_ , she decided, as her father went back to slurping his soup through his thin lips.

"That's amazing!" Andromeda squeezed her older sister's arm. "I knew you would do well. You're so smart."

Narcissa nodded and said in her soft voice, "I'm really proud of you, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix's mother far exceeded her father in excitement. "Oh, my girl! My Bellatrix! This is a grand achievement. Just think how desirable you will be to pureblood men now! We can market you as intellectual now, and not just a pretty face!"

" _Mother_!" Bellatrix spluttered. This statement was shocking, even from her mother.

Druella paid her no mind. She was clearly thinking. Clapping her hands together, she exclaimed, "I know just what to do! We will have a party, an elegant soiree, to celebrate your good marks _and_ your eligibility as a wife. How perfect!" She rang a gleaming silver bell that was on the table and called, "Mitzi! Come on, you old house-elf! I need you to start printing invitations to Miss Bella's party immediately."

Bellatrix sighed. Her good felt decidedly less enjoyable.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Too bright." Bellatrix sighed as she turned from side to side in front of a large mirror, clad in a gown of shocking pink. Madame Malkin's dress shop was unusually empty this morning. When Bellatrix, her mother and her sisters had arrived, the old dressmaker had immediately began to fuss over them. She was a foolish old woman, in Bellatrix's opinion, but she certainly paid attention to blood status.

"Oh, dearie, I think that color is simply lovely with your skin." Madame Malkin stuck a pin in the fabric at Bellatrix's waist, grazing the skin. Bellatrix winced.

"Yes," said Druella. "A charming dress. So fresh and youthful and becoming- _why are you looking at me like that, daughter?_ "

Bellatrix shook her head and began pulling out pins. "Not this one. I hate pink."

Andromeda giggled as Bellatrix slipped the dress over her head and threw it to the ground. "Yes, Bells, but you also hate yellow, green, blue, purple… you even turned down black and grey, which surprised me."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes at her sister, slipping into the dressing gown that Madame Malkin provided. "I've already told all of you that I want a red dress. We're wasting our time with any other color. Red or nothing."

Bellatrix's mother looked weary. "Darling, we're trying to showcase you as a bride, not as a prostitute. Red is too promiscuous, too… loud. You complained that pink was too bright; won't red be just as bad?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "No, I want a dark red dress." She turned to Madame Malkin. "Find me one," she said imperiously.

The dressmaker slipped into a back corner of the shop, sorting through rows of gowns, while Bellatrix's mother sighed and checked her watch. "If she can't find one that suits you within the next twenty minutes, we're getting the pink one."

Bellatrix ignored her mother. Madame Malkin was returning with a long gown draped over her arm. Holding it up in front of Bellatrix, she said, "Yes, try this one, dear."

Bellatrix slipped the dress over her head. Narcissa rose and helped her with the zipper. Turning to face the mirror, Bellatrix smiled. _This_ dress was exactly what she had imagined.

It was long and skimmed the floor. It was made of a light, floaty fabric that lifted at the smallest movement. It was sleeveless and had a scooped neckline that was very low-cut. Bellatrix knew her mother would hate that.

But the color, the color was truly perfect. A deep, dark red. The color of the best roses in the Black family's garden. The color of blood, once a lot of it spilled. Bellatrix bit her lip at the memory conjured up by the latter comparison. She wouldn't think of that now, she wouldn't. She shuddered slightly and the fabric of the gown rustled.

Bellatrix turned back to face her family. "Well?" she asked. "What do you think?"

Narcissa and Andromeda were smiling. "It's gorgeous!" exclaimed Andromeda, while Narcissa added, "Yes, it's perfect for you."

Druella Black sighed. "Well, it's not what I had in mind, but it does suit you." She addressed Madame Malkin, "We'll take this one."

Reluctantly, Bellatrix removed the gown. She handed it to Madame Malkin, who proceeded to place it in a garment bag. Bellatrix slipped on her street clothes: black leggings, a navy blue sweater, and boots. She fastened her long black cloak about her shoulders.

"Mother, I'm going to leave now, if you don't need me for anything else."

Bellatrix's mother looked up at her from where she had been fussing with her purse. "Very well, darling. I'll buy the dress and keep it at our house until the party."

Bellatrix gave her mother a perfunctory kiss on the cheek before hugging her sisters. "See you later!" she called as she swung open the shop door and stepped out into Diagon Alley.

She walked for several blocks, looking in shop windows. She and her family had arrived very early this morning, but Diagon Alley was becoming very busy. Young boys and girls bustled about with their parents, clearly shopping for supplies for the upcoming Hogwarts school year. Bellatrix, enjoying her freedom as she walked about, felt very glad that she had just graduated.

Trying to escape the crowds, she took a left turn and walked into Knockturn Alley. She passed Borgin and Burkes and had made it about three more steps when a voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Bella," came the quiet voice from behind her. It was authoritative and so familiar that it made Bellatrix catch her breath. "What are you doing here?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Bellatrix spun around. "My Lord?"

The hood of his cloak was pulled around his face, but Bellatrix could just barely make out his features. Her knees felt weak. Somehow, she had always pictured her Master as otherworldly, detached, perched high above the rest of them. Secretive, he moved about in the night, or so she thought. Never had Bellatrix expected to see him in so mundane a place as Knockturn Alley.

Bellatrix swallowed. "Dress shopping, actually." The words sounded stupid the moment she said them. Dress shopping. Trivial, silly, feminine. She didn't want him to think of her that way.

She couldn't see his face, but embarrassment made her bold. "I could ask the same of you, my Lord. What are you doing here?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, and Bellatrix worried that she had overstepped, that she had been too inquisitive. Then, he said, "I was in Borgin and Burkes. There was a certain object there that had caught my attention and I wished to procure information about its origins."

"Oh." The conversation was dying off.

"And why were you dress shopping?" issued the quiet voice from under the hood.

Bellatrix laughed nervously, shifting her weight from her right foot to her left as she leaned against the brick wall behind them. "My mother got this idea that it would be… fun, I guess, to throw me a party. She's acting as though it's to celebrate my exam results, but really, I think it's just an opportunity for her to throw pureblood bachelors at my head." She rolled her eyes. "Anyhow, if we are to have any hopes of marrying me off, I apparently _must_ have a new dress. So, here I am."

Bellatrix wished that she could see her Master's face. He nodded contemplatively, then began to walk deeper into Knockturn Alley, indicating that she should follow suit. Bellatrix fell into step next to him. She was acutely aware of the awkward slapping of her boots on the pavement.

"Do you wish to be married, Bella?"

She hoped that her face did not show her surprise at this question. "I… I'm supposed to want that. All pureblood girls are raised to want that, told that a good marriage is the most important duty of our lives."

"But do you personally wish to be in the married state?"

Bellatrix's words came out hurriedly, as though they were not of her own volition. "No." She was shocked at herself, but she pressed on. "No, I don't want to be married. I don't want to be tied to some stupid boy who tracks mud onto my carpet and goes drinking with his idiot friends in the tavern every night and treats me like his property. I don't want to marry a fool who never would have had a snowball's chance in hell of marrying me if it weren't for the status of his blood. Of course I don't want that. Who would?" She paused for breath and continued. "But I'm just a silly young girl who can't stay unmarried, as my mother would say. So I have to shut my mouth and plaster a smile on my face and pretend to be a sweet, feminine, little twit. I have to simper at men and pretend they're _so_ smart, when really I have twice as much sense as any of them. Yes, it makes me sick, but I haven't any choice. It's the curse of pureblood girls. We have to make pristine, perfect marriages to continue our pristine, perfect bloodlines. And there's no way around it."

 _Oh, my God_ , thought Bellatrix, as soon as she had finished speaking. _What must he think of me now?_

They were still walking through the back streets of Knockturn Alley. Her Master was silent for what felt like forever. Finally, he spoke.

"You have no choice, when it comes to a husband?"

"Not really," replied Bellatrix. "Technically, he just has to be a pureblood, one of the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight,' but it's hard to find a qualifying man who isn't your first cousin."

The Dark Lord laughed softly, and Bellatrix felt herself relax. He had taken her rant rather well, really- at least he hadn't tried to argue with her.

He spoke again. "Well, Bella, who are your main contenders?"

"My Lord?" She was confused.

"Who are the most likely candidates for your hand in marriage?"

Bellatrix sighed. "I could probably guess, but I don't know for certain, so I won't attempt it. Mother knows, I'm sure. I suppose it will be whoever turns up to the party next Saturday."

The Dark Lord was silent once again. Bellatrix's feet were beginning to hurt. As they rounded a corner, he turned to her and said abruptly, "And here, Bella, I must leave you."

"What?" she asked, but she was speaking to thin air. He had already Disapparated.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Bellatrix!" Druella Black called up the stairs. "Are you dressed yet? People will be arriving soon! It's already half past seven!"

"See," Andromeda said, pulling a brush through Bellatrix's long hair. "I told you we were almost out of time."

Bellatrix looked into the mirror of her dressing table. Her makeup was done, at least, and thanks to Andromeda, her hair was sleek and shining. Bellatrix was very proud of her hair. Thick and dark, it was so long that she could sit on it. She felt it brush her hips as she turned to her wardrobe and pulled out the red dress.

The floaty fabric felt like a soft breeze as she pulled on the dress. Andromeda closed the back zipper in one fluid motion.

Bellatrix looked in the mirror again. The dress was just as beautiful as she remembered.

"Andromeda! Tell your sister to come down! The Rosiers are arriving!"

"Are you ready?" Andromeda asked her sister.

Bellatrix took a steadying breath. It was silly, really, to be so nervous. What did she care if anybody at this party liked her? After all, she had known most of the guests since she was an infant. She sighed. No, this was different. Perhaps everybody had been well acquainted with the little girl, but this was the introduction of the woman.

"Ready," she answered, and she wrenched open her bedroom door and walked down the staircase, head held high, Andromeda at her heels.

All of her composure deflated like a balloon as she took in the crowd that was packed in the spacious parlor.

"Merlin's beard, Andromeda," she whispered, "did all of these people arrive right after Mother called to us? What, did they coordinate their arrivals?"

Before Andromeda could respond, their mother hurried through the throng of people and seized Bellatrix's arm. "How lovely you look, my dear!" she exclaimed. Bellatrix noticed Narcissa standing with their father, who was talking gravely with Abraxas Malfoy. Narcissa gave her a small smile and a wave.

"Bellatrix," murmured Druella. "Come with me. There is a young man you need to meet."

 _And so it begins_ , Bellatrix thought ruefully, permitting herself to be dragged into the left corner of the parlor. A young man was standing near one of the bookcases, a glass of mead in his hand. He was alone and looked rather awkward.

"Rodolphus Lestrange," Druella cried gaily as they neared him. "May I present my daughter, Bellatrix?"

Placing her hand on the small of Bellatrix's back, Druella actually pushed her daughter towards the young man.

"Hello," he said in a voice that cracked slightly. He stuck out his hand and Bellatrix took it. His palm was sweaty. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Black."

"The pleasure is all mine," she answered, but it wasn't, not really. She looked hard at him, and saw that he really was no more than a boy. He was probably about Bellatrix's age, but she didn't remember seeing him at Hogwarts. He was pale and he had dark hair and- no, that was where the similarities to her Master ended. Rodolphus Lestrange had gangly limbs and he was fidgeting. His face had a round slackness that Bellatrix found unpleasant. He lacked the sophistication, the confidence, the quiet gracefulness that Bellatrix had come to expect from men. Granted, it probably wasn't fair to compare most males to the Dark Lord, but Bellatrix couldn't help herself.

Rodolphus dropped her hand with little ceremony. "Shall we take a stroll in the gardens?" he asked, gesturing to the door that led to the patio and the expansive stretches of plants.

Bellatrix couldn't politely refuse and she saw her mother watching closely from several feet away. She forced a smile. "Yes, that would be lovely."

Rodolphus took her arm, leading her to the door. He opened it for her. _At least he's civil_ , Bellatrix thought. They strolled, arm in arm, across the patio and went down a short flight of steps into the garden. Darkness was beginning to fall in earnest, but the garden was flooded with light, thanks to tiny lamps that were stuck in the ground. These lamps cast a warm, golden glow on the flowers and greenery. Normally, Bellatrix would have found it lovely, but she could feel little enjoyment with Rodolphus gripping her arm.

"I wonder that I do not know you," she told him, turning so that they walked through the rows of roses. "Did you attend Hogwarts?"

Rodolphus shook his head. "No, I have been at school in France- Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. My mother was English, but my father was French. I lived in England until I was nine, then my mother died and we moved to France. My father died six months ago, so I finished school in France and now I've moved back to London."

"I see," said Bellatrix.

"Do you have any siblings?" Rodolphus asked her.

 _Oh, wonderful_ , thought Bellatrix. _The usual scintillating small talk._

"Yes," she replied, "two sisters. They're both inside. Andromeda is fifteen, Narcissa is fourteen. How about you?"

"An older brother, Rabastan. He's two years older than me. He couldn't come tonight, but he's living with me."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

They walked into a small grove of trees in the back of the garden. There was a bench underneath the trees, and Bellatrix sat on it. Rodolphus crowded next to her. His leg brushed her dress as he situated herself. Bellatrix tried to repress her disgust at his contact.

"You are very beautiful," he told her. He smiled and Bellatrix saw that he had bad teeth, yellow and crooked. "What may I call you? Do you have any nicknames?"

 _Yes_.

"No, not really," she lied. She didn't like the thought of this boy addressing her in a familiar manner.

"Hmm…" Rodolphus said thoughtfully, looking upwards. He still hadn't let go of her arm. "What are some good nicknames for Bellatrix?"

 _Please stop_.

"How about Bella? Can I call you that? It means 'beautiful' in Italian, you know."

"Yes, I know," she said mechanically.

 _Fitting, for you_.

She pushed her Master's words out of her mind. She would scream if she thought of him any more, with this boy's sweaty hands clinging to her arm.

"No, don't call me Bella. I like the name that my parents gave me perfectly well. 'Bellatrix' will do," she told Rodolphus.

"Very well, Bellatrix," he said, smiling again. Bellatrix averted her eyes so as not to look on his horrid teeth again. His breath stank, too. She could smell it now that he was so close to her.

 _Breathe_ , she told herself. _Remember your duty_.

She pictured the Dark Lord in her mind. She could almost pretend that he was the one sitting next to her. She could see his every feature so clearly in her mind. Her reverie brought a tenderness, a soft sweetness to her face that made Rodolphus inhale sharply.

 _Remember your duty_. She faced Rodolphus and gave him a radiant smile.

"My, Mr. Lestrange, won't you tell me about France? I have never been there, and I don't know a thing about it, but you seem so very smart."

* **Please review! Any and all feedback is absolutely welcome! If you've made it this far, thank you!***


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

It was a short, no-frills courtship, entirely devoid of the flurries of passion that Bellatrix had read about in novels. Reflecting on this, she decided that it was because there was no suspense, no glamour to what transpired between them. Everything was quite plain and simple. Bellatrix needed a pureblood husband. Rodolphus needed a pureblood wife. And so when, after three weeks of formalities, Rodolphus dropped to one knee and matter-of-factly asked her to marry him, there was no doubt in Bellatrix's mind as to what she should say.

The hard part, though, would be breaking the news of her impending nuptials to her fellow Death Eaters. And to the Dark Lord. Most especially to the Dark Lord.

However, Bellatrix soon realized she needn't have worried about telling everybody herself. Her cousin Evan Rosier did the job for her.

"Bells!" he exclaimed at the next meeting, which took place at Malfoy Manor once again. Bellatrix had just settled into her chair and she looked at him with alarm. "I guess I have to congratulate you!" he continued. "Uncle Cygnus has just told me."

Bellatrix focused on Rosier's face, but she could feel the Dark Lord's eyes boring into her. He wasn't one to remain curious for long.

"What calls for congratulations, Bella?" he asked her.

Rosier began to speak, but Bellatrix kicked him under the table. "Ow!" he said ruefully.

Bellatrix turned to her Master.

"I apologize, My Lord. I did not intend to interrupt our meeting with my personal news." She paused. "I am going to be married."

"To whom?" The Dark Lord's voice was quiet and betrayed nothing.

"Rodolphus Lestrange."

"I see. When?"

Bellatrix looked at him. The scarlet eyes were twin enigmas. Try as she might, Bellatrix could find no emotion in their depths.

"We don't want a long engagement. It doesn't make much sense to drag the affair out, in my opinion. The wedding will probably be in December."

"I see."

Bellatrix noticed that Antonin Dolohov was gazing at her with concern. He glanced at the Dark Lord, then back at Bellatrix.

Bellatrix felt sick. She had done the right thing by accepting Rodolphus' proposal. She knew it. Her parents, her whole family, for that matter, were so pleased. But how could something that was supposedly right feel so terribly wrong?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"Stay," the Dark Lord told Bellatrix as soon as the meeting ended. Everybody else was filing out of the room. Bellatrix's stomach knotted, but she obeyed. The Dark Lord indicated for her to sit in the chair next to his.

"So," he said, a faint smile on his lips. "You fulfilled your duty, your 'curse,' as you called it."

Bellatrix hadn't realized that he remembered her words from Knockturn Alley. _Of course he did, stupid girl_ , she thought fiercely.

"I suppose I did." She shrugged. "Mother threw us together. It was too easy. Really, I'm lucky."

"Lucky?" Bellatrix's hands shook as she detected a faint note of passion in her Master's voice. "Lucky, to be marrying a man you don't care for?"

"Well, yes," Bellatrix explained. "I could do far worse. He isn't terribly smart, and his breath is like a troll's, and he's rather immature. But he won't be cruel to me. He won't order me around, he's far too timid for that. And-" she hesitated. "And he won't try to dictate the company I keep."

"What does that mean?"

Bellatrix sighed. "Well, I don't think that most husbands would fancy the idea of their wife meeting up with a bunch of men to commit crimes."

Her Master laughed unpleasantly. Bellatrix pressed on. She was afraid of silence between them. "He doesn't have any parents to bother me, either. He's only got a brother who's as stupid as he is, but more thuggish. I can handle both of them quite easily."

"I want to meet him. His brother, too."

"What?" Bellatrix could not conceal her surprise. "Why? There's not much to the pair of them. I fear you'll find them terribly dull."

"All the same, I wish to meet the man who- I wish to meet Lestrange." Her Master's voice was impatient. "Bring them to our next meeting."

Bellatrix's curiosity fought her innate desire to do whatever the Dark Lord asked. "Very well," she responded. "I'll bring him, and I'll bring the brother for good measure."

 ***Short chapter, but the next one should be longer! I don't want to bore anybody with super long chapters. Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

"The house looks awfully dark, Bella."

She jerked, as if swatting a fly. "Don't call me that."

"Are you sure Lucius is having this party tonight?"

"Positive." Her boots crunched on the gravel drive of Malfoy Manor.

Rodolphus was struggling to keep up. "Who's here, again?"

"You'll see." She grinned wryly and pointed her wand at the manor's thick oak door. " _Alohomora._ "

It opened with a groan. Bellatrix pushed through it, ignoring the helpful arm that Rodolphus extended.

Up they went; up two flights of smooth stone stairs. Down they went; down a hallway. At its end was a door of burnished wood, painted black, pierced in the dead-center with a silver knocker.

Bellatrix shot a glance at Rodolphus. His cheeks were flushed from their walk. His eyes were bright. She almost felt sorry for him, in his childlike ignorance.

She lifted the knocker and let it fall. Twice.

"Enter," issued a voice from behind the door.

Slipping her hand into his clammy one, Bellatrix half-dragged Rodolphus through the door

Every Death Eater was present, filling the chairs that framed a long table in the center of the room.. They were eager, Bellatrix thought, to survey her intended. It was rather like having a gang of pureblooded, meticulously trained, highly lethal older brothers.

Lucius smirked. Dolohov raised his eyebrows. Rosier cracked his knuckles.

At the head of the table was a high-backed chair, and behind it, a crackling fire that blazed in a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. In fact, the back of the chair was all that was visible to Bellatrix, for its occupant had turned to face the fire.

She cleared her throat. The sound echoed off the stone walls. "My Lord."

She watched, breathless, as the chair slowly swung around. And then he was looking at her, _really_ looking, with piercing black eyes that seemed to pass through her robes, her skin, her very bones.

Rodolphus gasped and stiffened. She dug her fingernails into his palm. "Kneel," she hissed, and he did, dropping to his knees.

Bellatrix didn't kneel. She stood perfectly still, entranced, lost in her Master's face.

"Bella," he murmured, and the sound was like a feathery caress on her skin. "I see you have brought him."

She jerked Rodolphus' arm and he rose. "Yes, my Lord. This is my betrothed. Rodolphus Lestrange. Rodolphus, this is-"

Humor glimmered in the Dark Lord's eyes, and she stopped. Dear God, she was speaking as if introducing two friends at a keg party.

"Well, you know," she finished lamely.

Lucius chuckled. "Sit, both of you. My legs ache just watching." He flashed Rodolphus a gleaming white smile, and pushed back an empty chair next to his own. Rodolphus dropped into it.

But Bellatrix went unhesitatingly to her usual spot, on the Dark Lord's right.

He didn't look at her, but his white hand pushed a goblet of wine in her direction. "Thanks," she muttered.

"Lestrange," said the Dark Lord. "An old name. An old family. Good blood."

Rodolphus coughed. "Yes, eh- sir."

"Your father was a bright wizard."

"He always spoke very highly of you, and of the cause."

The Dark Lord nodded. Bellatrix's stomach felt knotted as a shoelace.

"Leave us." The Dark Lord's voice was cold. "I wish to speak to Lestrange, alone."

Looks of surprise flashed around the table. The Death Eaters filed out of the room, and Bellatrix followed unwillingly. The door slammed shut behind them.

"He's in quite the mood tonight," Dolohov told Bellatrix.

She shuddered. "Intense. I know. What d'you suppose they're doing?"

He shrugged. "If I know our master, either he's giving your charming fiance the Mark, or placing him under the Cruciatus Curse. Perhaps both."


	11. Chapter 11

"What happened?"

Rodolphus shook his head. His face was bone-pale. This time, it was Bellatrix who struggled to match his quick step.

"Talk to me."

He stared at the ground. He was ignoring her. Fury leaped in Bellatrix's chest.

"Damn it. Say something!" She grabbed his arm and tugged on it, pulling him to face her. He shook her off easily, but he stopped walking. His chest heaved.

"He- erm. He did it."

She narrowed her eyes and grabbed his left wrist. She pulled back the shirtsleeve. Her fingernails dug into his forearm. He didn't flinch.

The Dark Mark was branded into his skin; freshly red around the edges, cutting harsh black lines as the serpent writhed on his veins.

Standing there, looking at her Master's mark on the arm of her betrothed, she felt a stirring in her belly. Her breath caught, ragged. And for the first time, she felt an ache of desire for the man whose bed she would share in a matter of weeks. She pressed close to him, filling the space between them, pawing at his chest.

"What're you doing?"

His voice would ruin it. The sight of him, the _smell_ of him, would ruin it. So she closed her eyes and pictured the snake and the skull on his skin. She closed her eyes and pictured her Master's gaze, boring into her.

A warm flush spread through her, and she pressed her lips to Rodolphus'; parting, urgent, sliding up his body as sinuously as the snake on his arm. Their mingled breath licked through her body like flames.

The way her Master had looked at her, as if he knew her mind, her very _soul_. Perhaps he did. The way his fingers had caressed the rim of the glass before he passed it to her.

She moaned wantonly in Rodolphus' mouth. Mistaking the desire that shook her, he grabbed her elbows, pushing his tongue against hers. His breath was acrid and his stubble was coarse on her face, and revulsion coursed through Bellatrix, for the man in her arms was not her Master, was not the Dark Lord, was only a man. Her Master was inside the manor, no doubt plotting a war, and she was rubbing herself on this oaf like a bitch in heat.

Bile rose in her throat.

"Stop."

She pushed him away, gasping, and straightened her robes.

Rodolphus was panting. Confusion clouded his moonlit face. "But- you-"

"I'm tired." She pushed her hair out of her face. "I'm sorry."

He reached for her, but she backed away. His smile was pitying. "Of course. I'll take you back to your flat."

He offered her his arm, and she took it.

As they walked away, down the gravel path, she turned around once again to gaze at the upstairs window; behind which, she knew, was the room where her Master sat.

As her gaze rose to it, she glimpsed a face, and a flash of white fingers before the curtain fell.

He had seen.

She didn't undress. She curled up on her bed, fully clothed, with her boots still on, and stared at the ceiling. Approximately one hour and sixteen minutes passed.

And then her Mark burned.

She Disapparated.

Her lips trembled, and her hands shook as she fingered her wand.

The manor was dark. Lucius lived alone, she knew, after his father's death in the previous year. House elves were his only company, and most nights, he drank himself to sleep in his attic bedroom.

She ran to the door, slipped inside, and made for the room where her Master had been earlier. The stairs felt higher, the hallways longer. She was acutely aware of the thud of her boots on the glossy wood floors.

She threw the door open- and stopped, dead still.

"Bella."

Her Master sat alone, at the head of the table. The empty chairs were eerie. The fire crackled.

"Close the door."

She did, stepping inside. Her palms were sweaty; she wiped them on her jeans.

He was looking at her again, with that piercing, focused gaze. And he was drinking; a lot, judging from the near empty bottle of wine in front of him.

She cleared her throat and looked at the table. If she looked at him now, she might burst into flames. Or combust.

"Meeting's out, then?"

"Long since."

"Good." She nearly had the wood grain memorized. "Wouldn't want you to go on without me. I mean- us. I assumed you were talking to everybody about Rodolphus, but I wouldn't want to miss something important. I know Dolohov feels bloody smug when he knows more about the plans than I do, and when you sent me away early, I thought that maybe-"

"Bella."

She gasped.

"Look at me."

She did. His eyes gleamed scarlet.

"Am I the only one here?"

He dropped her gaze. Disappointment rose in her.

"It's frustrating, Bella."

She knew that tone. She was about to get a lecture- for what, she had no idea.

"Sit." He pushed the chair next to him out with his foot. She sat. She hadn't thought the alcohol was affecting him, but now, she suspected otherwise. His manners, typically sharpened to cutting perfection, were rough around the edges. And his voice was harsh.

"My Lord?"

"Frustrating. I am not a man accustomed to inconvenience. Nor am I one to be swayed by-"

He broke off. "But I have spent the last hour, here, debating whether or not I ought to summon you."

"Why was it such a question?"

An unpleasant smile twisted his lips. "I knew you would come."

Bellatrix's mind was muddled. His words were like butterflies, flitting away before she could pin one down and mull it over.

"So you wanted me to come? Or not?" Remembering his dislike of childish questions, she hastened to add, "My Lord."

He stared into the fire. "How old are you, Bella?"

She hadn't expected that. "Seventeen."

"And you were younger than that when you joined my ranks." He shook his head. "I corrupted you, Bella."

She leaned forward, closer to him. "Don't you like me like this?"

"Like you?" His voice was incredulous, and she flinched. " _Like_ you? I've turned you into something terrible- and beautiful- and deadly."

He put his hands over his eyes. " _Like_ you." He looked younger, in that posture, and more careworn.

Her mind buzzed. Beautiful. He had called her beautiful. And he said it like he meant it.

He had made her all of those things.

He had also made her brave.

"I'll be terrible, for you. I'll be deadly." She slid out of the chair and onto her knees, on the hard floor.

"I'll be beautiful."

He opened his eyes, and looked at her, shocked. The distance between them was smaller than it had ever been. She wanted to close it entirely.

"I'll be anything you want me to be, My Lord. You need only ask."

He raised a hand, and for a moment, she thought he would strike her. But it fell gently, and his finger traced down her face, over her cheek. When he reached her lips, he brushed his thumb over them, then pinched her jaw and lifted it.

"You kissed that boy. In the garden."

"You watched us?"

"It is my right to watch. You serve me, Bella. Never forget that. Every thought that passes through your head is mine."

She had long suspected that he was a Legilimens. She had heard the men's hushed whispers, and had fallen prey to his uncanny knowledge more than once. This would be the ultimate test.

She looked him dead in the eyes, and replayed in her mind everything that had transpired between her and Rodolphus. The kiss. The warmth of his body on hers. The way she had parted her legs to get him deeper to her, closer to her.

The way she had thought of her Master, the entire time.

A smile spread across her face. _I want you_ , she thought.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "Damn it, Bella! Stop it! Stop it, I tell you!"

A hysterical laugh bubbled from her chest. At least the anger was proof that he felt _something_.

"We won't do this, I tell you. We won't."

"Get out of my head, then. Because I have two years' worth of thoughts that I can show you." She smirked. Her cheeks were hot.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"That way. The way you looked at that imbecile who you're to marry." His hand closed on the back of her neck, and he dragged her face closer to his. "Act like a whore, and you'll be treated like one."

"I wasn't looking at him. I mean, I was, but I didn't want him."

"You wanted me."

"Yes."

He pressed his lips together, as if fighting amusement. "Aiming a little high, aren't you, Bella?"

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm wrong. I can accept that. As long as you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't desire me."

He raised his eyebrows.

Their faces were so close together that when she spoke, her lips brushed his. She smelled the sweet wine on his breath. "I am yours," she breathed. "Take me. I am yours. You have my mind, and my soul, and my wand. My body is yours, if you want it."

His eyes burned, and the hand on her neck tightened, and for a wild, leaping moment, she thought he would kiss her.

But he didn't.

"Go home," he said. His grip on her was still so tight that she couldn't move, even if she wanted to. "Your cousin informs me that the wedding is in two weeks. Go home to that boy. Marry him. Do your duty to your family."

"And what of my duty to you?" she whispered.

He grinned. "Give your husband your body, my pretty one. Bodies are cheap, and easy to find. I want your damned, stubborn mind."

"So you don't want me… in that way."

"Oh, I do. But I see no reason to begrudge Rodolphus the innocent, pureblood virgin he's been anticipating. Watching him watch you may be the only time I've ever disliked my skill for Legilimency."

He released her. "Serve your husband. Think of me. And come back when the honeymoon has ended. Dismissed, Bella."


	12. Chapter 12

She was married in white.

She looked pale, she thought, gazing in the mirror. Her face was like snow beneath the frosted veil. But her lips were blood-red, and so was the ruby that glinted at her throat- a parting present from her parents, undoubtedly worth more than the average home.

The dress had been her mother's, and her grandmother's before her; in fact, it could be traced back through ten generations of her family. The bodice was fitted; the top cut wide, throwing her creamy shoulders into the light. The skirts billowed out from her small waist.

The sleeves were long, tight, and lace. When she turned her forearm at an angle, she could see her Mark through the fabric.

Bellatrix forced her voice to sound casual. "I don't suppose that- _He_ came."

"Gracious! No," her mother hissed. "The Dark Lord wouldn't come to this sort of thing. It's far too personal. I highly doubt that you're that important to him, Bellatrix."

She took a deep breath, and gathered her skirts in her hands.

 _It's my duty,_ she thought. _My duty to my family._

"Well, come on, darling. Can't have the bride late."

 _My duty to Him._

She met Rodolphus, who looked nervous and sweaty, at the end of an aisle in a church, and they were married before a Ministry official, God, and nearly every pureblood in England.

And that night, in the four-poster bed in the grandest suite in Lestrange Manor, she shut her eyes, locked her jaw, and held perfectly still while Rodolphus took his pleasure and then rolled off her in a panting heap.

When his snores filled the room, she wrapped a sheet over her nakedness and crept to the crackling fireplace. She extended her forearm, gazing at it in the warm glow. Her Mark seemed to writhe- her imagination?

She brought it to her lips.

The deed was done.

Bellatrix hadn't thought much about life after marriage.

Rodolphus was easier to live with than she would have anticipated. By the end of the first week, she knew his habits to a science, and found them unaltered in the time that followed. For Rodolphus was just that: a creature of habit.

He drank his coffee with a dash of cream, hated green onions, and liked a cigar and a glass of sherry after his dinner, which was served at promptly seven o'clock. His favorite color was yellow, but he liked her in black. He read the _Daily Prophet_ , but skipped the front page and went straight to the crossword puzzles. When he was irritated, twin lines appeared between his eyebrows, and he couldn't take a joke, even if the punch line walked up and socked him in the face. He was slender, but his body had a slackness to it, and his veins looked green beneath his fair skin.

He did not love her, she realized. To love her, he would need to understand her, and Bellatrix was as foreign to him as an exotic bird. But he was fond of her, for he seemed to recognize that she possessed a strength that he never would. And, besides, she was beautiful. Of all the women to be coerced into marrying, Bellatrix knew that she wasn't a bad catch.

When he slept with her, it was quick, uncomplicated, and devoid of passion. He didn't moan her name, or profess his adoration, or caress her body, as she had imagined a man doing. The closest he ever came to any of that was, on one occasion, patting her hand and muttering, "You're rather nice, you know, wife."

But he was never rough, nor cruel, and for that, she was thankful. It would have been inconvenient to curse him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi all! Quick note here from the person who's been writing this, and apologies for being so slow about updating it. I will be updating this story very soon, within the next few days, but in the meantime, I've got a bunch of new stories up. All are about Bellatrix and Lord Voldemort, with some very distinct Bellamort themes, so if that's your jam, check them out in the meantime! And expect an update on this story very soon :) Thanks!**


	14. Chapter 14

Bellatrix couldn't seem to look at him.

Her first meeting back, after a two week-long "honeymoon," which had really consisted of kicking Rodolphus all night in a feeble attempt to stifle his snores. Though really, the snoring was preferable to any waking deeds that happened in their bed.

And she couldn't seem to meet her Master's gaze.

The men had jeered good-humouredly. All in all, they'd cracked less jokes than she'd expected, when the newlywed couple slipped into the parlor of Malfoy Manor. Rosier had ruffled her hair, yelping, "Oi! Look who's left the love nest!"

But the Dark Lord had been silent, watching.

All through the meeting, Bellatrix squirmed in her chair. She didn't listen when Rookwood droned on about his Ministry promotion. She didn't listen when Amycus Carrow bragged about a recent Mudblood disappearance. Rodolphus had to wave his hand in front of her face when he whispered a question in her ear: "How long do these meetings usually go on for, anyways?"

Perhaps he hated her, now that she'd been wedded and bedded by another man. Perhaps he'd come to his senses, after two weeks of her absence, and realized that she wasn't so desirable as he'd thought. Perhaps he thought that she'd been defiled, rendered useless; the domesticated wife of a man with middling intellect and a poorly-managed fortune.

Perhaps he'd never really wanted her at all.

So when they all filed out of the room, orderly and quiet, she was surprised when Antonin Dolohov caught her sleeve. "Stay," he muttered. " _He_ wants to speak with you."

Bellatrix bit her lip.

"Rodolphus-"

"-is going to come upstairs with me and Lucius and get thoroughly sloshed on some firewhisky. Finally, some orders I can live with. Relax. Go to him."

He broke away from her, shutting the door behind him, and then they were alone.

She turned. The Dark Lord was watching her from his seat.

"Well. Is it as horrid as you'd imagined?"

She took a step towards him. Then another. Her fear and her desire for closeness were battling, and the latter was winning.

"Being married? He's fine. He doesn't love me."

The Dark Lord's laughter was devoid of mirth. "Did you want him to love you?"

"I suppose not. But…"

"Feminine pride, Bella? I wouldn't have expected it of you."

"Well, I just thought that, you know…" Her cheeks flushed scarlet. "I just figured that they called it 'making love' for a reason."

Her Master's gaze darkened. "The bride has been left unsatisfied, then."

She folded her hands tightly. "It's just a pity, really, that everybody has to suffer through such a horrid practice. Waste of time. I don't see why everybody gets so worked-up about it."

His lips parted, and then he laughed- _truly_ laughed, a chuckle that started soft and then grew.

"What's so funny?"

With apparent difficulty, he forced the smirk from his face. "You sound like me, when I was your age. Couldn't see the allure of rutting some girl in a haze of hormones. I preferred studying. Whereas you prefer…" He cleared his throat.

 _You_ , she thought. _I prefer you_.

"But I was wrong, Bella, and so are you."

She blinked, feeling very small and foolish, like a child who'd been called to answer for some misdeed.

His eyes were roaming up and down her body. Bellatrix was suddenly very aware of the space between them, painfully aware of his nearness. If she wanted to, she could reach out and touch him, where he sat. He was strong, she knew, and solid, and broad-shouldered. He smelled like leather and wine and salty sea air. His hands were cool, almost frigid.

Six inches between them, give or take? She wanted it to be smaller. She wanted to-

"Bella."

It wasn't an order. It wasn't a preface. It was soft, and almost a plea.

But when she inched closer, he sighed. "Damn it all," he muttered. "I'm going to curse myself for this later."

"What?" she whispered.

"You need to go." Even as he said it, he took her waist in his two hands, pulling her closer. His grip was so tight that it almost hurt, digging into the soft curve of her flesh.

She looked down at him helplessly. "You can't keep doing this to me."

"Doing what?" He stroked at her waist then, and Bellatrix thought she would faint.

"Making me think you want me, and then sending me away."

"But I do want you, Bella. And that is precisely why you must go," he said quietly.

"That doesn't make any sense, you know."

"Perhaps not, to you. But I won't do it, Bella." He shook her a little. "I won't demean myself to snatching another man's wife, and to showing my followers that I'm…"

"... a man," Bellatrix finished. "Exceptionally powerful, but a man nonetheless."

He smiled ruefully. "You really do need to leave. I fear that I'll kiss you, if you don't."

He released his grip on her, pushing her back slightly. He was breathing hard, she realized. They both were.

She backed up a step.

"Out of curiosity," he said, tilting his head. "What would you do, if I did kiss you?"

"I suppose I'd kiss you back, Master."

He nodded gravely. "Noted. And now you really must go."

 **Author's Note: Well then. A dispassionate marriage and… hypothetical kissing? Poor Bella. Anyone else think Voldemort's eventually going to stop with this holier-than-thou routine? All hands up? Great.**

 **If you made it this far, please do drop a review!**


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